


Let Me Show You How Country Feels

by maybe_we_were



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton's Farm, Clint Is a Good Bro, F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Relaxing, Stressed Natasha, Swing Set, Vacation, getting away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe_we_were/pseuds/maybe_we_were
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is away on vacation and suggests that Natasha visit the farm after a tough mission for some R&R.  She knows she'll find rest and relaxation.  What she doesn't know is who Clint's farmhand is.  </p><p>Set somewhere after the events of AOU and before CA:CW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Show You How Country Feels

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! So, I watched a movie with Chris Evans in it (Before We Go) and he was sporting a beard and I thought he looked great. That's where some of this story line comes from. I also feel like this could have actually happened in our little world (before Civil War, anyways). If you have any thought on it, please let me know what you think! I hope you like it! :)
> 
> As always, I don't own these guys, I just write about them.

“Nat, you sound stressed.”

Those are the first words Clint says after he hears about her latest mission.  It involved going back to Russia, a place she doesn’t particularly care for.  Being the professional she is, she went in and got the job done, but it didn’t keep the memories of her time there at bay.

“I’m just tired.  I’ve got the next week off though, so I’ll have some time to relax.  How is your vacation going?” she asks.

“It’s going great!  The kids love the beach and Laura and I are managing to get some time alone together.  Speaking of which, I’ve gotta go.  But listen, why don’t you stop down and spend a few days at the farm?  You’ve always liked the quiet and I’m _sure_ our farmhand won’t mind.”

The idea is very tempting, tempting enough that she only debates for a few seconds before giving in.  He’s right, the peace and quiet of the countryside is exactly what she needs after a crazy week.

“I’ll go down and make sure they’re doing the job right,” she quips.  “Thanks Clint.”

“It’s no problem.  Let me know if any problems pop up.”

She doubts there will be any, with how secluded the farm is. 

“I’ll take care of it, you just worry about having a great time,” she replies.

“Thanks, Nat.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

The line disconnects and Natasha slips her phone in her pocket, returning to her apartment at the base.  The first thing she does is heat up a pizza in the oven, before grabbing a shower.  She spends the rest of the evening packing her bags with jeans, long sleeved t-shirts, and hoodies, deciding to leave in the morning.  Fall in Ohio is beautiful, but on the chillier side.

After a good night’s rest, she’s up, dressed, and on the road by nine, rolling down the highway in the jeep she bought to combat winter in upstate New York.  The originally seven hour drive takes eight, with a stop for lunch and a bathroom break making up the extra time. 

She turns down the windows as she pulls in to the driveway, happy to be back in familiar settings.  This place is more of a home than any place in Russia ever was.  It all looks the same except for the new-looking, dark blue Toyota truck that is parked next to the house, which she parks alongside. 

She gets out and stretches, debating on her first move.  She’s unsure if Clint called the farmhand to let them know she way coming, so after running in to use the bathroom, she heads out to introduce herself.  Clint’s farm truck is parked outside of the barn, leading Natasha there.  As she gets closer, she can see someone inside.  The lean figure of a man is visible, his silhouette moving as he moves bales of hay.  His back is to her, but she can see that he is tall, at least six feet, and has blonde hair.  He’s hard at work and must not have heard her, so she makes her presence known.

“Excuse me,” she says, gaining the person’s attention.  Having heard her, he slowly turns around, blue eyes meeting her green ones. 

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

“Steve?” she says, startled, “What are you doing here?”

She has a pretty good idea, but her mouth hasn’t caught up to her brain yet.  He chuckles, wiping his hands on his dark jeans. 

“Clint wanted to take his family on vacation, so I offered to look after the farm while they are gone.  What are you doing here?”

It’s quiet for a few moments.  He gives her an expectant look, because she hasn’t answered him, but she can’t.  She’s shocked by what she just noticed. 

Steve has a _beard._

Natasha wasn’t even sure if he grew facial hair, as she’s never seen him with any.  She has to admit, it suits him. Well.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she forms an answer. 

“I needed some time to relax, so Clint suggested I stay here.”

She can now see why he wanted her to stay.  Freaking matchmaker.  Not that she’s really upset.

“You grew a beard,” she blurts out, her mouth still not caught up with her brain.

Again, Steve laughs, this time rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“Yeah, I forgot to pack a razor and I didn’t want to use one of Clint’s without asking.  It’s sort of growing on me though.”

She eyes him up and down, from the red flannel he has on, past his jeans, and down to the boots that cover his feet. 

“Country life works for you,” she replies, gesturing to him. 

He smiles softly, but says nothing, his eyes moving as if they’re taking her in.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he says after a minute, looking down briefly.  “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll drive us back?  I’m almost finished with the horses.”

She nods in agreement and walks over to the pile of hay bales to wait and watch.  Turning to sit down, she gasps when a pair of strong hands grasp her waist and lift her up onto a stack that is two bales high. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, noting Steve’s proximity and the way his legs are wedged between hers.

She’s been fighting how she’s feeling (emotionally and physically) about Steve for a while now, and being this close is making her head fuzzy. 

Steve lingers for a few seconds and then takes a bucket for each horse to the spigot.  Filling them, he places one in each stall before turning back to her.

“Ready?” he questions, shuffling to her side.

“Mhmm,” she says, bracing herself to slide off the bale.  Before she knows it, Steve’s hands are braced on her hips, helping her down and steadying her.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks as they head towards the truck.  Steve opens the door for her and she climbs in.

“Not yet.  I figured I would figure that out when I got here.”

He closes the door, then rounds the truck and gets in on the driver’s side.

Starting the engine, he says, “I’ve got some beef stew in the crock pot, if that appeals to you.”

It does, and she lets him know that, the truck then lapsing into silence.  They drive over to the house and park near the garage.  Steve goes with her to the jeep, helping her carry her bags in.

They wash up and share the meal Steve had prepared in the cheery kitchen.  After cleaning up, Natasha takes her bags upstairs.  Coming back down after unpacking, she finds that Steve is on the two-seater swing on the porch.

“You’re just in time,” he says as she opens the screen door.  He pats the spot next to himself, slowing down the swing so she can sit down.  She looks out at the view and Steve is right, she’s just in time.  The view is breathtaking, the sun just setting over the tops of the trees, casting an array of pinks and purples across the sky.  She hears the creak of the swing moving back and forth, feeling the slight breeze that accompanies it.  The whole evening has been pleasant, Natasha enjoying their down time together.

Steve twists his body towards her, his arm resting along the back of the swing. 

“I can picture it.”

She turns her head in his direction, an invitation for him to continue his thoughts.

“I can picture this.  Maybe not the farm, but a nice house with a front porch and a swing.  Somewhere nice and quiet.  A place to go when the job becomes too much or to just get away.”

“It’s a beautiful picture,” she says, unsure if she should ask the question that came to mind when he started speaking.

“It really is,” he agrees, making the choice for her.  “The thing is, though, to complete the picture, you would have to be there too.”

And just like that, everything changes.  He’s looking at her, really looking, probably in an effort to read any change in her body language. 

She, on the other hand, only has two choices left to think about: Step away from Steve or move closer.  Stepping away would mean continuing to fight her feelings, and why do that when she can actually have what she’s been wanting?  She’s almost afraid it’s too good to be true, but she knows Steve is sincere and only says what he means.  She feels bad for leaving him hanging while she processed, but makes up for it when she pulls his lips to hers and kisses him, hard.

“Oomph.”

Surprise causes his mouth to open, which Natasha takes full advantage of.  The scratch of his beard on her soft skin causes a shot of electricity to go through her, leaving her just a little more breathless.  Catching up to what is happening, Steve’s hand slides from the back of the swing to between her shoulder blades, pressing them closer together.  Natasha swings her leg over his lap, and Steve wastes no time lifting her up and heading into the house.

“Please tell me you’re staying the rest of the week,” Steve asks, his voice soft.

“I’m only leaving when you do,” she replies, the grin on her face growing wider.

Satisfied with her answer, their lips connect again as Steve carries her up the stairs to the bedroom he had been occupying.  He sets her down gently on the queen-size bed, taking a moment to look in her eyes.

“What,” he breathes, arms planted firmly on either side of her to hold himself up, “do you think of this room?”

Her eyebrows arch up at the timing of the question, but she answers anyways.

“I like it.”

She watches as his eyes light up, his fingers edging under her shirt.

“Good, because we’ll be spending a lot of time in it.”


End file.
